Mending a Broken Heart
by LizzyThePanda
Summary: The Middle Ages were not known for their Utopian societies, as anyone with little to no money were forbidden from interacting with those of the higher class. But in the Scottish clan of DunBroch, a certain redheaded princess has developed a strong relationship with a rather troubled peasant. Please R&R! (:


**(A/N: Some of you may know me from the Kung Fu Panda archives, but I am now going to be visiting the Pixar archives with my very first "Brave" fic. This is a story I've been working through for almost a year now, but at long last, here it is, chapter number one. I hope you guys like it, and I would truly appreciate your thoughts in a review. (: Thanks so much, you guys rock! (; Please enjoy.)**

**~Mending a Broken Heart~**

**Chapter.1 Gretta**

My skin had turned as white as the snow I painfully hiked through, and the crowd of people constantly bumping into me didn't help at all. Winter days are always hard on me since I am always outside and have nothing more than a black cloak and a pair of leather boots to keep me warm.

As I seated myself in the corner of the market place, my heart began to race in my ice cold chest: I had to sing and sing loud in order to go home with any amount of money.

I placed the bucket by my toes and breathing in, I suddenly came out with a song.

"_Why…must all the doors be shut _

_Why…must I always dwell in all these cuts?"_

A few people were beginning to gather around.

"_All my life, I've wanted affection_

_Every day praying I could step in that direction_

_But why…must I be trapped in a world of no attention?"_

Most seemed to be listening while only a couple were dropping coins into the bucket, just like every other day for me.

As the hours went by, my throat began to hurt like a cat was scratching my larynx. But no matter how much it hurt, I had to keep singing. The sun hadn't even gone down yet, but as night began to fall so did more snow.

I was crying out in agony on the inside: it was just so cold, my bones were going numb and the tips of my fingers began to burn.

When the day was at long last over and I could go home, my heart began to race once again. Not only did I have to drag myself through the white blanket of anguish into the dark woods, but a stinging sensation would later be felt upon my face.

Looking into the bucket, I saw I had only made about fifteen coins, an amount my mother would surely not approve of.

Going deeper into the forest, I saw an orange, glowing window not far from me. I had made it home; time to go inside, time to get this done.

As I turned the knob, entering the tiny house, I began to feel a bit sick, nauseated with fear.

"Mum?" I called, closing the door behind me.

I had to repeat myself about twelve times, wandering through the hall, coming across my dad's bedroom.

For the last two years, he and mum have been unable to sleep together: he has come down with a terrible illness where he is rarely conscious but when he is, he is unable to speak because of his uncontrollable coughing. We are unaware of what it is called or what caused it, but we are too poor to afford a doctor and it's up to mum to keep him alive. She's always forcing me to go out into the forest to get herbs.

Dad was in bed, still as a stone, almost lifeless, while mum sat in a wooden chair up against the wall, about six inches away from dad. She looked awfully stressed out (nothing new, really) with her face cradled in her palms.

"Mum?"

She turned her head to the doorway and gasped immediately.

"GRETTA!"

She ran toward me and grabbed my shoulders in a nerve-piercing grasp.

"GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR, LASS!"

She threw me against the wall, causing my grip on the bucket to loosen.

Mum slammed the door shut and turned around, seeing me on the floor but most of all, those fifteen coins sprawled out in front of me. Her eyebrows lowered in frustration and anger, grabbing my wrist and abruptly pulling me onto my feet.

"Oh please, lass, this is less than last time," she shouted.

My eyes were beginning to fill up with unwanted moisture. "I-I tried…"

"Well, you clearly don't try hard!" she screamed. "This town is full of people who would graciously give money to a young girl with a beautiful voice. But you only attracted a few of them because you are too weak to speak up!"

I slowly backed away, trying mightily to keep those tears inside my sockets. "Mum, I…I'm sorry…"

"Oh don't waste my time with apologies! Your father is gravely ill and meanwhile, we have no food, no knowledge of the disease in this house, and very little money, all because of my weak daughter!"

All of a sudden, those tears could no longer be blocked: warm trails of salty waterfalls leaked from my swollen hazel eyes as I burned red hot with anger.

"AND YE REALLY THINK RICH PEOPLE WITH ALL THE LUXURIES IN THE WORLD WOULD WANT TO COME NEAR A DIRTY PEASANT!?" I shrieked through tearful gasping.

"Do not raise your voice at me, child!" she snapped.

"WHY NOT, YOU LOVE SCREAMING, I MEAN YOU RAISE YER'S AT ME ALL THE TIME!"

Mum approached me and grabbed my face, forcing me to look at her. "I AM YER MOTHER!"

"YER ALSO A BEAST!"

She immediately let go of my cheeks and slashed her palm against one of them, causing me to fall to the floor. Grabbing the collar of my dress, she opened the door and grasped the back of my neck to push me into the snow.

"Ye will remain out here until you learn some respect," she said coldly. "And earn more money." She slammed the door behind her.

I rolled over onto my back, sobbing silently. I was trapped out here in the cold, unloved and unnoticed.

However, my spirits were lifted up when I saw a familiar and very furry face, peeking out from behind a nearby tree trunk. It was my little cat companion, a gray Ragdoll kitty. I met him when I was eleven, and he's been my friend ever since. After he came to visit me most nights and I discovered he was a stray, I gave him the name Scotch Iris. He is a very old cat, having weak, feeble legs, a scratchy _meow, _and is very boney as well. I wouldn't dare ever bring him inside: not only would mum have a nervous breakdown because of his germs, but she would surely make me get rid of him and that's the last thing I want. Not only does he show me love, but I show him love in return, something he is more than likely missing out on, too.

A tiny smile grew on my face when it met his. I rolled over, shakily getting onto my feet as I approached the feline. He began to purr happily as I held him against my beating heart, which warmed at the reminder that I had someone to love after all.

But about fifteen minutes later when I heard the galloping of a horse, I remembered he wasn't the only thing I had, and I realized I should take back that thing I said earlier: about how rich people refuse to come near a peasant. Some distance away, the moonlight shining through the leaf-less trees revealed a tall black stallion, and a cloaked figure riding him. I started to run, immediately knowing who this person was. I held Scotch tightly and he didn't seem at all frightened; then again, he was always a very calm, trusting cat.

I slowed as I got closer, approaching the horse. I gently petted the equine's mane as he sniffed the feline in my arms.

I placed my palm on the human's knee. "Meri?"

The human unhooded herself, revealing a poofy set of bright red locks.

"Hello, lassie."


End file.
